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Month: July 2011

It’s been a while, I know, but I finally have a chance to say “sup?” to the Queefies! I’ve been trying to do this for ages.

So, we went on our annual vacation to Beautiful Newport RI and during my first time on the beach with my super cute new bathing suit from Land’s End, I flashed everyone when I mistakenly thought the weight of the skirt bottom was an actual skirt and proceeded to take it off.

Mister took a picture of it and promised to photoshop my bum so you couldn’t see it but he didn’t do a good enough job so I’m not showing you my bum picture. Sorry. But I’d like to thank Mister for letting me do it so he could get a picture first. I’d love to say that it happened only once, but that would be a lie. It happened again the next day at the pool.

That bathing suit has been relegated to “private use only.”

Vacation was lovely until on Wednesday we were going out to celebrate my birthday when I went to put on my jewelry and IT WAS GONE!! I tore through our room and it was just not there anywhere!!!

The hotel maid took my wedding rings and my great grandmother’s diamond ring.

Yeah.

It’s a huge loss for me and it’s been several weeks now, but it still feels like it just happened. I feel like I’ve lost my great grandmother all over again. I was close with her, you know. She left me her favorite piece of jewelry. I feel like I’ve let her down because I failed to protect it. I was looking forward to passing that ring on to Girlfriend or Homeslice one day, and now I can’t.

And we called the police and we went to pawn shops and emailed pictures of my stuff all over the place. I’ve been checking craigslist and we’ve reported it to insurance which only covers a small amount, but at least it’s something.

That maid is guilty as sin. She was the only one who could have entered our room, and she admitted that my rings must have fallen off the bathroom sink and into the pile of towels on the floor. The police never said the rings had been left on the sink… how odd that she knew that, right Queefies? Of course they searched the hotel laundry room. Guess what? NO RINGS.

She also admits to having left our room door open!

Who leaves a room door open???

DIRTY THIEVES DO!

Last I heard, she still has a job. The stupid Long Wharf Resort offered us a free dinner and a new vacation. Well, whoopty frickin’ doo! That totally makes everything better. They can suck it because it’s been a while now and nobody has called us to work out a way to make things right like they said they would, so here I am on the Internet using my big mouth to tell you DO NOT VACATION AT WYNDHAM RESORTS BECAUSE THEY WILL STEAL YOUR STUFF AND TRY TO DISTRACT YOU WITH A STEAK!! I never, ever want to go there again.

The Newport police have been able to do NOTHING. She even had a warrant out for her arrest at the time of the theft, but they can’t charge her with stealing my rings because they can’t put them in her possession. The detective said that the evidence in hand is circumstantial and would be shot full of alternate theories by a defense attorney.

Suddenly, I’m a HUGE believer in waterboarding…

This criminal is out there with these things that mean so much to me and I just can’t get over it. I keep picturing my great grandmother’s ring being sold for peanuts, dismantled for the diamonds, and melted down for the platinum.

My mother gave me her wedding rings to wear (thanks, mommy!!) and they’re pretty, but they’re just not mine. I miss the feeling of heaviness my rings had.

Being robbed is the worst feeling ever. It’s so much worse than realizing you’ve just taken your pants off at the beach. I look at those pictures up there and I see I still have my stuff, and now I don’t anymore. Mister bought me a new watch to replace the cheap Target one the maid took. It was exactly the same one I had, and when I opened the box, I burst into tears because it felt like it belonged to me in another lifetime. It was like having my things back, but not.

There’s just something missing. And I feel naked all the time…

If any of you have any other ideas for things we can do to try to get my stuff back, send your Crissy a message. Or if you know a witch that can spin a badass curse, I could totally go supernatural on some motherfuckers right now. CALL ME!